Buckman over breakfast was always my favorite.

The Germans would have to wait
as bacon stormed our eggs of Normandy.

Buckman over breakfast.

Freshman frittata,
Buckman biscuits,
the world outside in a rush hour fit while
our hangovers drowned in tea with sugar.

Picture this:
A pitcher that
we drained but good with purpose.

Buckman butter,
Buckman jam,
Buckman: the morning's hash browned special.

Being anywhere with her was easy.

But Buckman over breakfast was always my favorite.